Fausto Puglisi / Fall 2014 RTW

Search a show by:

Oh, that you could hear this from Fausto Puglisi directly and not just be reading it online. The Sicilian-born Puglisi is one of a handful of emerging talents shaking up Milan, and he was recounting backstage, in a wonderful stream of consciousness, just how he came to arrive at his fall 2014 collection, a kaleidoscopic mix of exuberant harlequin checks, jewel-encrusted flourishes, and an ode to Lady Liberty, a look Puglisi dubbed “super rock meets super chic.” You’ll have to excuse some of the paraphrasing, because Puglisi speaks quickly and I scribble into a notebook slowly, but here goes . . . “It was a lot of work, but I am so happy, I smile when I look at this collection . . . but it’s a serious job, designing, and I take it seriously. These aren’t prints, but are patterns individually pieced together by hand . . . I was thinking about Malevich, the Ballet Russes, Sonia Delaunay . . . Paris when Sonia Delaunay was working, it was like Warhol’s Factory in New York in the sixties, so much creativity . . . New York is about hope and optimism to me. I want to be like the Frank Sinatra of fashion . . . bringing joy . . . maybe with Robert De Niro thrown in . . . So the Statue of Liberty in there . . . ” Where, Fausto? He broke into a huge grin and pulled at the sleeve of his sweater, which depicted Liberty’s iconic face rendered as an intarsia. “You like?”

It’s nigh on impossible not to get swept up in the sheer joie de vivre that Puglisi brings to the proceedings, and the raw, untamed energy he delivers to the Milan scene at a time when the city is ruled by its global behemoths. Puglisi continued on the same high octane surge of energy he came up with for spring, which meant that for every thigh-high harlequin mini crinoline (FYI: those Dangerous Liaisons meets RiRi skirts have removable panniers to make them lie flatter), there was an elegantly sedate color blocked pleated skirt swirling demurely around the knees; for every oversized bad girl black leather biker jacket, sleeves groaning under the weight of pounds worth of gems, there is a ladylike graphic wool duster coat, as they were known back in the day, that day being around 1962. (But it’s not at all retro; it would look effortlessly cool worn with his brilliant gilded flat black ankle boots, shimmering with stones.) It makes for an interesting conversation, this desire of Puglisi’s to keep up a dialogue between his wilder theatrical impulses and his desire to make clothes which will be relevant to a lot of women, not just the types that drive street bloggers crazy. His next challenge is going to be to make more clothes for the former while continuing to distill into them something of the latter. Puglisi doesn’t always have to turn up the loudness, especially not right now when everyone is listening to him.